


A Notice

by HailingTorrent



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Arthur cares but isn't good at showing it, Gen, Period Typical Attitudes, Take place after Season 3, Trans Female Character, Trans Girl Tommy Shelby, Transphobia, sorta AU, transphobic slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HailingTorrent/pseuds/HailingTorrent
Summary: Her name was Tommy Michael Shelby. She was a woman. And there was no way in hell she would her Aunt Polly pick her first dress.





	A Notice

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! Just wanted to write a quick Peaky Blinder Oneshot. And surprise! It's trans as hell!
> 
> TWs for this chapter are Period Typical Transphobia and Transphobic Slurs. Please put your comfort first before reading.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

No-one ever quite questioned it. All those instances in the past. The stolen makeup. The dresses they'd find under her bed. The late nights where she'd come home, drunk beyond all repair and slurring about how "She wasn't right!". If this was the modern day, suppose it'd sound all so cliche. 

 

But this wasn't the modern day. This was the early 20th century. And things that just weren't done back then. People like Tommy just weren't allowed. Tommy would wondered how the world would consider her if she let it be known that she was a her. Would they see her as freak? A lunatic? An oppurtunist? Tommy was used to being seen as all these things and more. And yet, she could never quite bring herself to be open with the truth. There was something insidious about it, burrowing into her brain like a drill. That, while she kept it a secret, then there was always a _chance._  A slim chance that if she ever did come out with the truth, the world would accept her. They would look past what they believed a woman's voice, body and parts "should" be and simply see her for what she was: A woman.

 

But if she did Come Out, and they all reacted like expected, then that chance, that _hope_ , would fade away like dust in the wind. And Tommy could not take that risk.

 

Sitting in her office, sipping some off-brand scotch that Johnny had smuggled in. Lizzie in a chair across from her, unaware of why she was called into this office at such an ungodly hour. The typewrite in front on the desk did give an inkling .In this situation. At this time. Tommy decided she could take that risk.

 

"Lizzie. I want you to do that- Ah, fuck it. Whaddya call it?" Waving a hand expectantly towards Elizabeth, Tommy make a rumminating clicking sound with his tongue, hoping to get whatever the word was off the tip of it.

 

"A letter? A notice? A bloody order for some beef from The Garrison? You're gonna have to be a bit specific here, Tommy." Having spent many a year trying to figure out the kind of woman she was, _what_ woman she was, her goal sat right across from her. One of strength. And smarts. And bucket loads of snark.

 

"A notice! A notice." Grasping her scotch glass, the remmenants swirling in what remained, Tommy glanced towards the bottle, half-filled. Good. She was going to need something to drink once she sent this. "Write this down."  A murmur of protest began to emerge from Lizzie's voice, but it was silenced by Tommy shooting her a glare. Still needed that edge. Would need it more than ever when this notice was sent.

 

"I, Thomas Michael Shelby." The name clogged in her throat like wet paper. A name given to her by a mother she loved and a father she nothinged. Would she change it? Question fro after. Can't bullshit on this.

 

"I, Thomas Michael Shelby, am writing this notice to alert prospective buisiness partners, customers and any louse with curiosity."

 

Can't stop now.

 

"I am a woman."

 

The rest of the night went by rather clinically after this. Kinda anti-climatic when you think about it. She explained how it wasn't a matter of being AFAB. Used words to describe it that you would see in textbooks years later. Talked of thinly veiled threats to anyone who dare imply anything to the contrary. But, the notice ended very similar to how it began.

 

_"I, Thomas Michael Shelby, am a Woman. And you would all do well to accept that."_

To her credit, Lizzy didn't question or halt beyond a slight typo when the news came out. Which Michael was sure to make her start from the beginning once more. Once it was done was a different story.

 

"Tomm-" Like in her throat earlier, the name now held in the air like wet paper. What made her halt saying this? Was it respect? Acceptance? Fear? Tommy wasn't stupid. It was definitely the last. "Can I ask about.....all of this?"

 

"In about ten minutes." Taking the half-emptied bottle, Tommy poured the two of them glasses. Lizzie's to the midway, her own to the brim. "First, we drink."

 

 

* * *

 

"What the bloody fuckin' hell is this trollop!?"

 

Arthur, ever the sensitive one. Ever the understanding one. Ever the calm one. Having fallen asleep at her desk, awakening to a now-sent typed letter and about three scotch bottles than she remembered drinking, the sound of her eldest brother barging in at full volume was not what you'd call a welcome sound. 

 

"Why, whatever do you mean, dear brother?" Out of anyone else, snark would be the tone to those words. From Tommy, it carried a lingering, flat message. _Don't do this, Arthur._

"You know damn well what I'm fuckin' talking about!" Letting loose a wild hand, the strewn on the table bottles were now strewn on the floor, glass shattering being about just as unwelcome as the aforementioned yelling. "I'm down at the Garrison, trying to serve the blighters, and what do I hear those little shits muttering and yammering about. What do I fuckin' hear!?" Funny. He was so full of rage coming in. So very Arthur like. But even he could not bring himself to repeat what the bar flies said. The crude, uncouth words that left their mouths.

 

"What? What did they say?" Standing strongly to her feet, ignoring the dagger like pain piercing through her brain, Tommy stood eye to eye with her brother. 

 

"Bloody- Don't make me say it, Tommy." Like a flickering flame, Arthur's temper was. One second, it would burn brightly and heartily enough to lay Birmingham to embers. The next, it would be ashes, a ruin and sign of what was here. 

 

"Did they call me a tranny? A freak? Oh, what's the new word they've come up with? He-She? Oh, I actually am rather fond of that fucking one(!)" Tommy's temper, on the other foot, was like gasoline. Not really a danger most of the time. But when you bring a spark to it, woe be to they who brought the spark. "Can't be anything worse than I've said to myself." Twisting around, Tommy began rummaging through the cabinet in the back, bringing forth the fourth bottle of off-brand scotch to the table. "Or dear Ol' Dad."

 

Pouring a glass for herself, Tommy gestured towards the second, fractured glass on the table to Arthur, earning a shake of the elder sibling's head.

 

"Suppose you want to tear into me?" Slumping back into her chair, glad and grateful for the relief from the firery pain shooting through her body, Tommy nodded in a  faux-welcoming towards the chair opposite. "Talk about how I failed the business. Failed the family." What started as a sip turned into a full blown downing of the scotch, earning the glass a refill. "Well, get on with it. I'm a very busy woman." Tommy supposed it was petty, emphasizing the last word. But she'd earned a bit of pettiness.

 

Slumping in chair in the same exact manner, Tommy felt a tinged of jealousy for Arthur's non-hungover state. Tasting the scotch, that jealously fled.

 

"Look, Tommy-Is Tommy OK?" This moment of empathy took a back seat as Arthur continued speaking without waiting for a reply. "I'm not......I'm not mad at you. I mean, fuckin' hell, everyone in the bloody family knows you've been like this. We had to hide Ava's dresses cos you kept stealing them. I mean, we hid 'em from her too, but that's just cos it was funny." A somber, mirthless chuckle emerged from the two of them at the remminicising. Like forcing yourself to laugh to ignore how fucked the situation is. "But, I worry. I'm your fuckin' big brother. Course I'm gonna worry."

 

"You never told me what you did with those drunks."

 

"I smashed their heads into the bar. Thought there'd be no fuckin' question about that." This actually managed to earn a genuine laugh from the two of them.

 

"I just.........I just wanna know why? Why now?" The full power of empathy finally kicked in now. Arthur eyed the bottle of scotch, eagerness and desire in his eyes before he starkly turned away, awaiting his sister's reply.

 

"She never knew." Arthur didn't need to ask to know who Tommy was talking about.

 

"I married her. I had a kid with her. I had everything with her. She fucking died for me. And she never knew. Never knew what was going on up in here." A quick point towards her head, and then the hand fell to gesture to her whole body. "I don't want Charles growing up without knowing. I need him to know."

 

The lack of sound returned. Suffocating and overwhelming entirely. Both siblings wanted to say something to end it. To destroy this silence. Anything. Say something. Say something!

 

"Remember when you nicked those earrings from Anne's?" Arthur's question earned a curious raised eyebrow from Tommy.

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I certainly do."

 

"I always thought they suited you." Arthur's reply now earned a slight smile from Tommy.

 

"So did I. It's why I bloody nicked 'em!" This caused an uproar of laughter from the two. A bad joke between siblings didn't really need an explanation for why it was funny. It just was.

  
"Also, Polly wants you." Once more, a raised eyebrow.

 

"And why would that be?" Polly wanting her for something could be anything between the moon and earth.

 

"She has a dress. One for you."

 

"Oh, fuck, Arthur. You're not gonna let her dress me are you?" 

 

Her name was Tommy Michael Shelby. She was a woman. And there was no way in hell she would let her Aunt Polly pick her first dress.


End file.
